Cold brew cure-all

My dad woke me up at 5:40 every morning in high school to make the 6:35 train to New York City. Groggy and sour, I’d plod downstairs into the kitchen for breakfast in a dark corner of a quiet room with a cup of coffee. I started drinking coffee when I started commuting at 14, and those mugs of coffee fortified me for the daily trip from my house to the looming city. A decade later I am, at heart, still the same groggy, sour girl, but my three or four daily cups bring me the affability I don’t naturally possess and sooth the aches of adult life. Coffee is a potent elixir, one that transforms a small girl into a savvy commuter, a frazzled kid into a competent teammate, an awkward encounter into a serene stroll. When something is wrong, coffee can usually make it right.

These last few weeks of summer are a painful time, with shoulders stinging from lazy sunscreen application and scabbing insect bites, with legs cringing as they anticipate the departure of their beloved jorts. For an antidote, I prescribe several doses of cold-brew coffee. The method, which has become trendy in recent years, is too easy: just soak coffee grounds in cold water for 12-18 hours and strain through a filter or French press. The resulting concentrate is sweeter and milder tasting than chilled hot coffee, which becomes more acidic the longer it sits in the fridge. I like it diluted with a few tablespoons of water, a slug of whole milk, and a shake of cinnamon, the perfect salve to the aches of change.

Cold Brew Coffee

Ingredients

2/3 cup coffee grounds

1.5 cup cold water

Directions:

• Pour grounds into a a large jar or bowl with a lid. Stir in water. Refrigerate for 12-18 hours
• Ppour grounds through a mesh strainer. Discard solids. Line strainer with a coffee filter and pour the liquid back through. Store in a lidded container for up to 3 weeks in the refrigerator.

Notes for the Naked:

• A French press will speed up the process—just prepare in the pitcher and plunge after 12-18 hours. I can’t deal with another utensil in my kitchen so I use my strainer
• If you don’t have a mesh strainer, you can use a regular colander. Just be prepared to strain in batches using 2-3 coffee filters, because they’ll get so full of grinds that they will clog
• Don’t forget to dilute the concentrate before drinking. Cold brew is naturally sweet enough to be drunk black—if you usually take your coffee with milk, give it a shot

Don't cook but want to start?

A great recommendation from Deb at Smitten Kitchen, via xoJane:

Pick the one thing thing that annoys you every time when someone else makes it because they're doing it wrong. That's where you start; that's where you'll be driven and it will never feel like a chore to make something you like as awesomely as it can possibly be made.

Missed you

Blog, it's been too long. I'm sorry for the protracted silence, but on a hot summer day, the cool glow of the Internet can't compete with the sheen of a melting Pinkberry

or the technicolor produce at the farmers market

roasted into a candy-tinted salad.

Nothing against you, blog. But looking at you is not so appealing when I was looking at this:

Despite the shorter days and already cooling temperatures, fall will offer lots of warm things. Especially because I'VE MOVED, into an apartment with approximately six times the counter space (with room for my beloved stand mixer, Buttercup) and infinity times the entertaining space (with a doozy of a dining room). So even though this radiant summer begins to dim, the specter of fall glows on the horizon. It's going to be a delicious season.

Radish, Beet, and Kohlrabi Salad
Adapted from Martha Stewart
Ingredients:
10 small beets, greens trimmed off (any color)
16 radishes, greens trimmed off
2 bulbs kohlrabi, trimmed and peeled
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
4 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper

Directions:

• Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
• Roast beets: Group beets by size, and wrap them by twos and threes in foil. Wrap the largest ones alone. Seal tightly.
• Place on a baking sheet (or just straight into the oven) and roast until tender, about 1 hour.
• Unwrap beets, let cool slightly, then peel. Cut beets into quarters.
• Roast the radishes and kohlrabi: Cut 8 of the radishes into quarters. Cut the kohlrabi into similarly sized chunks. Toss with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Spread on a baking sheet and roast until tender.
• Slice remaining radishes into thin rounds. Toss cooled roasted veggies and fresh radishes in a medium bowl. Add thyme and lemon juice. Season with salt and pepper, and toss gently. 

Notes for the Naked:

• Kohlrabi is an alien-looking vegetable that tastes like mild broccoli stems. Once peeled, the purple kohlrabi looks just like the white (disappointing...) I bought it because my new roommate is a fan; not sure that I'd go for it again. Potatoes, carrots, or any other root veggie would be a delicious substitute here. 
• Save your beet and radish stems. They're delicious sauteed or in soup, and are supremely healthy
• Beet juice stains. Be careful. For a detailed description on roasting beets check out Not Eating out in New York

Baby, You Were Born to Brunch

I turned 25 a few weeks ago. They call these round number birthdays milestones, but 25 feels less like a major landmark and more like a nice rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike, with a clean bathroom and a Cinnabon--diverting, but nothing to write to Trip Advisor about.

I've been identifying as 25 for at least six months, since I like round numbers and hate that rookie post-birthday "24--no, 25" stutter. And I like getting older: I've always felt like a 40-year-old in a younger woman's body, and as the years pass, I feel less like a precocious kid who should learn to keep her mouth shut (and more like a twenty-something woman who should keep her mouth only slightly ajar...). My face is still wrinkle-free and will probably stay that way for some time thanks to my Exxon-Valdez complexion. My step is still sprightly, despite the warning my high school teacher gave that once you hit your mid-twenties you start to feel the age in your bones as you climb the stairs. At 25, I'm more or less who I thought I'd be at this age when I was 15: reliable enough to take care of myself and others, and independent enough to pick up and head someplace else should the fancy strike.

Of course, I'm still learning, in life and in the kitchen, and this birthday was no different.

Lesson 1: My mother is usually right. To celebrate the not-so-big bday, I decided to cook up a few dishes, invite a few of my favorite people, and serve brunch on board the LIRR for a day at the beach. (Per the invitation: "Perambulatory Pastries: Muffins and Mimosas on the Move. Aka my future graduate thesis.") My mother's advice for great entertaining is to always serve booze, whatever the occasion, and to make more food than you think you need. Let me tell you, there's nothing like tipsy mingling on a commuter train, and despite my cooking for 30, my 15 passenger-guests finished every crumb.

Mini muffins and manicure the color of a mid-June sky

Lesson 2: Shortcuts don't always make things easy. Picking a menu was tough because I usually don't cook big brunches (not enough room in my apartment) and I had a closet full of recipes to try. I knew I wanted something with protein, maybe a lox and onion combo, and as soon as I saw these donut muffins I knew I needed to try them (with butter, not margarine). I wanted one more dish, but I also didn't want to be cooking forever. So I cut some corners with an easy sounding pizza dough cinnamon bun recipe--just roll out, slather, and bake.

Guess what? Pizza dough gets real fussy when you try to roll it out without a roller. I ended up stretching it with my fingers, filling in the holes with balls of dough, and slapping a ton of extra butter and sugar on top. The finished rolls were like baked Play Doh: stiff, bland, and misshapen, as though they had been extruded through a Mega Fun Factory and manhandled by grubby, clumsy fingers. Meanwhile, those donut muffins? Couldn't be easier. Just mix up a few ingredients, toss 'em in a mini-muffin tin, coat in sugar, and enjoy. They turned out marvelous and left my kitchen and ego intact. 

One of these things tastes way better than the other.

Lesson 3: People will eat (just about) anything you serve them. When I realized I had a mess on my hands with those cinnamon buns, I immediately began obsessing over whether I should serve them. I tossed together another batch of donut muffins (seriously, so easy) so I'd have enough food, but threw the Ziploc bag of buns in at the last minute. By the end of the day, everything was gone, including the buns. Turns out, anything carby and vaguely sweet hits the spot after a day in the sun, and sometimes "just fine" is good enough.

So thanks to everyone who showed up to the beach and the brunch. Twenty-five may not have felt like much of a landmark, but sometimes being on the move is just as good.
 
Mini frittatas
Ingredients:
Egg base:
10 eggs
1 cup heavy cream or milk
1/2 teaspoon pepper

Traditional bagel toppings taste great in a frittata

Fillings:
Smoked salmon and goat cheese, inspired by Ina Garten:
1/2 pound smoked salmon, chopped
1 medium onion any color, diced
2 oz cream cheese

Birthday gifts smell good, taste good, lift off, scratch off

2 oz goat cheese (for topping)
1 tomato, chopped and drained of liquid in a colander
3 chives, chopped
1 tablespoon dried dill

Caramelized onion, roasted tomato, and veggie:
2 onions any color, sliced
1/2 pint grape tomatoes
1/2 cup asparagus, frozen or fresh (if fresh, microwave until tender), chopped
1/2 cup frozen artichoke hearts, chopped
1 handful basil, chopped
3 chives, chopped
2 oz goat cheese
2 oz parmesan, grated (for topping)
1 teaspoon salt

Directions:
Prepare the fillings first.
For smoked salmon and goat cheese:

• Saute the onion in a bit of butter or oil on medium high, stirring occasionally, until translucent, about five minutes. Add the cream cheese and mix thoroughly.

For veggie:

• Recommended do-ahead: Saute the onion in a bit of butter or oil on medium high, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes. Sprinkle a bit of salt on the onions, stir, and let cook for 20-30 minutes. Stir occasionally (I did every 5-10 minutes)--a lot of sites have detailed advice on how to "let them alone enough to brown (if you stir them too often, they won't brown), but not so long so that they burn." Add some water to the pan, a little extra oil if it's burning, reduce the heat, etc. After 20-30 minutes, taste them--they should be rich and delicious and sweet. If you want to cook them down further, you may need to stir more often.
• Recommended do-ahead: Slice the tomatoes in half. Coat them in olive oil and a very light sprinkling of salt, pepper, and dried herb if you'd like (I used parsley). Spread on a roasting pan in one layer, cut side up, and roast in an oven at 250 degrees until tomatoes are shriveled, about 1-1 1/2 hours.
• Saute the asparagus and artichokes quickly in some olive oil, about 2-3 minutes. Add in the goat cheese, salt, onions, and tomatoes, and stir until mixed.
• Prepare the egg mixture by whisking together eggs, cream and milk, and pepper.
• Pull it all together: Grease muffin tins thoroughly with butter or oil. Put a spoonful of fillings (any of those you've cooked, plus the fresh ones--chives, basil, etc.) into each muffin cup. Top with egg mixture until 3/4 full.
• Bake in 375 degree oven for 12-18 minutes (this will vary by your oven) until eggs are set.
• Top with cheese, and place under broiler until melted and lightly browned.

I got a little overzealous and ripped my list.
Because I love planning that much.

Notes for the Naked:

• With elaborate recipes like this one, I'm all about fixing things ahead of time. I made the caramelized onions and roasted tomatoes on Tuesday night and froze them. Just defrost in a microwave before mixing with the other ingredients.
• I am an obsessive planner. With a detailed prep list, there's no need to consult recipes or stay up way later than you thought cooking. I used Excel to list out the steps for each recipe and estimated how long each would take. I recommend it to my fellow compulsive cooks.

This Week in My Culinary Closet: Don't Cook...

To get to my apartment you climb through five flights of odors. We’ve got the normal New York City apartment smells—the wet dog and frying bacon and Tutti Frutti floor cleaning product that all supers seem to use. In my building, we’ve also got a perma-haze of patchouli from the stoners in 2D and clouds of mildew as the lady in 4A shuts her door on yet another pile of “giveaways” she’s left in the hallway, perhaps a molting shearling coat, a collection of water-stained Converse, or, once, an actual Oscar the Grouch metal trashcan. Once you’ve soldiered through this olfactory gauntlet, Chez Clothed Cook greets you with a 27-inch wide, 27-foot long windowless hallway that traps for days every odor in my kitchen. Recent pungent highlights include cinnamon granola combined with Indian-spiced meatballs and the fart of a friend who thought she was being courteous by taking it in the hallway.

It’s all enough to make me swear off cooking (and flatulent friends) til September. But a girl can’t eat smoothies for every meal. So this week in my culinary closet I offer you a collection of no-cook recipes. If you're willing to turn on a burner, there are lots of great stove-only recipes out there (Google around for skillet lasagna and no-bake cookies), but this list is for the no-cook purist. Think of these recipes as inspiration to beat the heat and repel the smell.

Condiments: Why Buy Jarred?
Freezer Jam
Easy Hummus

Soups: Gazpacho and Cuke
Coffee Gazpacho
Fennel Gazpacho
Peach Gazpacho
Avocado Cucumber Soup
Israeli Cucumber Soup

Entree: Asian Twists on Finger Food
Smoked Salmon Cardamom Spread
Lettuce Wraps with Miso Sambal

Dessert: Homemade Cake, No Hot-Oven Slavery Required
Strawberry Icebox Cake
Chocolate Banana Graham Cracker Icebox Cake

Springtime Shivers

Called that last one too soon. Spring has been like a flaky friend: so wonderful and warm and fun when it's around that I almost forget how grumpy I get every time that FOBO* mofo backs out on tentative plans and I spend the night burrowed in my apartment, deep conditioning my hair and making endless to-do lists (just me?).

Even if it doesn't always feel like spring, I want to make sure it tastes like spring, at least in my kitchen. These two recipes are a nice compromise. They're rich and soothing when you stumble in from that blustery May day, and their sunny ingredients--sweet corn, fresh mint, and tangy goat cheese--will warm you up when spring lets you down.

*Fear of Better Offer, FOMO's flighty brother. How has Urban Dictionary not heard of this word? Tangent: Have you ever looked up your first name on Urban Dictionary? It's bizarrely apt. For example, I am "the hottest and cutest girl in school shes just so awesome and has the best personality, shes realy shy at times but everyone loves her and whoever doesnt love her is just a jelous lozer:) and if ur a guy(damion, aj) then u should deffenitly go out with her." Call me, damion!


Eggplant with Tomato-Mint Sauce and Goat Cheese
From Bon Apetit
Ingredients:

Nonstick vegetable oil spray (or regular vegetable oil)
2 1-pound eggplants, trimmed, cut into 1/2-inch-thick crosswise rounds
1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup chopped onion
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 28-ounce can Italian-style whole plum tomatoes (I used the ones with basil, no salt added)
3 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 cup crumbled soft fresh goat cheese
8 fresh basil leaves, thinly sliced

Directions:

Preheat oven to 500°F. Oil 2 large baking sheets with oil spray. Arrange eggplant rounds on prepared sheets; brush lightly with 1 tablespoon oil. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bake 10 minutes. Turn rounds over and bake until tender and golden, about 10 minutes longer. Remove from oven. Reduce oven temperature to 350°F.

Meanwhile, heat remaining 1/2 tablespoon oil in medium nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add onion; sauté until tender, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and stir 1 minute. Add tomatoes with their juices, mint and oregano and simmer until sauce thickens and is reduced to 1 3/4 cups, breaking up tomatoes with back of spoon, about 20 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Spoon half of tomato sauce into shallow 2-quart baking dish. Arrange eggplant rounds atop sauce, overlapping slightly. Spoon remaining sauce over. Sprinkle cheese over. Bake until heated through, about 20 minutes. Sprinkle with basil.

Notes for the Naked:

• Formerly I thought recipes that instruct you to "sprinkle cheese over" were a lazy cook's crowd-pleaser. I still think that, but I’ve since jumped off my high horse and into the delights of the Trader Joes cheese aisle. Do not skip the goat cheese here—sour like the tomatoes and fresh like the mint, it makes this dish.
• No need to be too precise when cutting the eggplant. I ended up hacking mine into pretty uneven bits. The thin corners turned crispy and delicious, and would make excellent chips as an hor d'oeuvre.
• It was a little hard to serve this recipe. You'd probably be able to serve it in neat, lasagna-like squares if you peeled the eggplant first, but I couldn't be bothered.
• I made the sauce and roasted the eggplant ahead of time (might as well splatter tomato everywhere while my kitchen was already a mess). I then layered the elements in a pan, stored it in the fridge, and popped it in the oven when I was ready to serve.

Spicy Corn Soup with Herb Oil Drizzle
Adapted from Lois Ellen Frank
Ingredients:
4 ears corn, kernels scraped from the cob, or 3 cups corn kernels (fresh, frozen, or canned--I doubled this recipe and used 3 cobs and two bags of frozen)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 onion, diced
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
1 small can green chilies
1/2 jalapeno pepper, seeds removed and diced
1 tablespoon chili powder
2 tsp cumin
Cayenne pepper to taste
3 tbsp hot salsa (I used Trader Joe's Chipotle Salsa)
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
6 cups vegetable stock

For herb oil drizzle:
1/2 cup parsley or cilantro
1/2 cup mild-tasting olive oil (I used a good one and thought it was too strong for the dish--you could probably sub in vegetable oil nicely)
Salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

Prepare the corn by cutting the kernels from the cob. You should have approximately 3 cups of kernels from 4 cobs of corn. Save the corn cobs and set aside. The cobs will add additional corn flavor to the soup. In a pot over medium-high heat, add the olive oil, then the onions. Saute for 3 to 4 minutes until they are translucent, stirring occasionally. Add the garlic, chili powder, chilies, jalapeno, cumin, and salsa and saute for 1 more minute. Add the corn kernels and saute for another 3 minutes, stirring constantly. Add the salt, black pepper, and stock and bring to a boil. (If you have cut your corn fresh from the cob, place the reserved cobs into the saucepan at this time--this helps thicken the soup more). Once the mixture has boiled, reduce the heat and simmer for 30 minutes. Stir occasionally to prevent the corn kernels from burning or sticking to the bottom of the pan.
Taste the soup and add cayenne to your liking (be gentle--it's hot). Puree in a blender or with a stick blender directly in the pot.
To make the herb drizzle: Puree the herbs and oil in a blender or with a stick blender.

Notes for the Naked:

• Do you hate washing extra dishes? Do you like watching a huge pot of stuff whir into delicious slurry in seconds? If you answered those questions reasonably, you should get a stick blender. Bed, Bath, and Beyond will replace it for free when it dies on you within two years of regular, loving use. I'm so attached to mine that it has a name--PJ, aka Pope Julius, aka "The Warrior Pope." Mmm, sacrilicious.
• This recipe is really more of a suggestion, both for the soup and the garnish. I added some cumin, salsa, jalapeno and green chilies to the original recipe, since that's what I had kicking around. Feel free to go wild. Some dried parsley in your herb drizzle? A little roasted red pepper in your soup? Don't mind if you do.

Sips of Spring

Warm weather is finally here in New York! The street landscaping is in full bloom, with the concrete planters and low iron fences caging soft, candy-colored ruffles. I've already grown used to seeing those swaths of pinks and purples on my way to work every morning, already take them for granted. But a few weeks ago I was home in the suburbs for Passover and caught that moment when spring sneaks forth in little pops from its melting, molting winter backdrop: branches of yellow forsythia against mildewed siding; still-naked tulip stems poking like fingers through damp mulch; vivid shocks of moss on sodden asphalt.

This lime cordial reminded me of early spring in the suburbs, when that freshness is still a surprise. The piles of zest on my cutting board looked like new moss on asphalt, and the gouged surfaces of the limes gave off the grassy scent of lawn clippings. With the cordial, I made a cross between my two favorite drinks, the Rickey and the Gimlet. Unfortunately, Rimlet (or Gickey) doesn't sound quite as beguiling as its forefathers, but whatever zip this hybrid cocktail lacks in title it makes up in flavor. It's guaranteed to put a spring in your sandal-clad step (and will help distract from the pale flashes of your early spring toes).

Raw Lime Cordial
Lightly adapted from NYTimes.com

Ingredients:
4 fresh limes
4 tbsp bottled lime juice
2/3 cup sugar

(Loose) Directions:
Zest the limes with a microplaner, or peel them with a vegetable peeler, removing as little of the underlying white pith as possible. I zested two, and when I got bored of that peeled the rest for some variety. Cut the limes in half and squeeze them into a glass container. Add the bottled lime juice and sugar. Shake until the sugar dissolves into the juice. Add the zest and peels, pinching and squeezing the latter a bit as you put them in to release the oils. Cover and refrigerate 12-24 hours, shaking the container once or twice over the course of the refrigeration time (if you remember). Strain into a bottle, and let refrigerate for one more day before using.

Gickey (or Rimlet)
3 parts gin
1 part lime cordial
A squeeze of lime juice
1.5 parts seltzer/sparkling water

Lime wedge, basil leaf, or cucumber for garnish
Serve over ice (or shake the first three ingredients and strained into a chilled cocktail glass, topping with seltzer, if you're fancy like that)